In Vino Veritas
by Shahrazad63
Summary: Undoubtedly the wine... The Captain s - and Maria s - dark side. Revised and expanded, so you must read the first 5 chapters before the new one. Warning - if you like only TSOM stories that are sweet and fluffy, this one might not be for you:- Have fun!
1. Chapter 1

_**IN VINO VERITAS**_

_**CHAPTER 1**_

**_A/N: This story was not submitted to a beta yet. However, it has been throughly revised and expanded, and another new chapter added. A little warning - the changes made the story a bit darker, and probablymore controversial. So, if you like to see Georg and Maria as practically perfect in every way, maybe you should stay away from this one. _**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own The Sound of Music, etc._**

_**---**_

"_**In vino veritas"**__** (In wine there is the truth).**_

_**  
Pliny the Elder**_

_**---**_

_**Go, little book, and wish to all  
Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall,  
A bin of wine, a spice of wit,  
A house with lawns enclosing it,  
A living river by the door,  
A nightingale in the sycamore!  
**_

_**Robert Louis Stevenson**_

---

"What are we reading today, Gretl? Marta? Any ideas?" Maria asked, entering the nursery, carrying a pile of children's books she had chosen from the Library.

Gretl and Marta immediately started jumping up and down around her. "The Fairy Books!"

Their suggestion brought a smile to Maria's lips - Andrew Lang´s collection fairy tales, each book named by a color. Blue, brown, crimson, green, gray, lilac, orange, pink, red, violet, olive and yellow. They were a favorite of the von Trapp children, specially the little ones.

"I simply cannot disagree with that! A Fairy Book it is," Maria said, dropping the books on the table. "I don't have them here with me, but I can always go back and fetch them. Which color do you girls want this time?"

"Pink!" Marta exclaimed, without even blinking. "I want the Pink Fairy Book."

Kurt sneered, raising his nose from behind Jules Verne´s _The Mystery Island,_ "You shouldn't have asked, Fräulein – she _always_ wants the pink one."

"I want _all_ of them," Gretl said firmly.

"_All_ of them, Gretl?" Maria asked, incredulous.

"Hm mm."

"Are you sure?" she insisted. "There are eleven or twelve Fairy Books in all, if I am not mistaken. Don't you think all we need for the afternoon is one?"

"She is right, Gretl. There are forty stories in each book, and we would have…" Brigitta looked up, doing her math, "… four hundred and eighty stories to read."

Gretl was adamant. "I want _all_ of them." The five year old had definitely taken after her father, when it came to voicing her opinions and knowing what she wanted.

"Oh well, then," Maria shrugged, rolling her eyes. "I'll go downstairs to the library to..."

"No!" Marta and Gretl spoke at once.

"No?" Maria looked at them puzzled. "Why not? What is it now?"

"I don't think they want the ones in the library this time, Fräulein," Louisa explained. "The want mother's books."

"Oh, they are beautiful, I would love to see them again, it's been so long!" said Liesl, clasping her hands. "She had a collection of the most amazing children's books from all over the world, with the most beautiful illustrations you can imagine."

"Oh, I see. And may I ask _where_ the Fairy books you children want are? I do not recall seeing them anywhere in the library."

"The attic, Fräulein!" they replied in unison.

"Yes, father had the books moved there after she died, together with her other things," said Friedrich.

"He said that they were much too precious for us to ruin, but I think we all know the real reason why he did that," said Louisa bitterly.

"All right, I'll see what I can do about it!" Maria said, not without resignation.

Louisa approached her, smiling mischievously. "Are you going up there without permission, Fräulein?"

"No, Louisa, not if I can avoid it."

"But how…"

"I will ask your father's permission first," Maria said, already half way towards the door.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"_The attic,_" Maria thought helplessly. _"Why did it have to be the attic?_

Instantly, a voice, stern and brisk, echoed inside Maria's head.

"_In the future, you will kindly remember there are certain rooms in  
this house which are not to be disturbed!"_

The words said by Captain von Trapp months ago rung in her ears as she hastily climbed the narrow stairs to the attic. The strict household rules had been slackened since her arrival, but there were still three rooms that, as Frau Schmidt would tactfully say, were not _her part of the house_. The Captain's study, the master bedroom - and the attic. As she told the children, she had every intent of asking him permission to go up there, with the specific task of getting the books, and nothing else. But he and Baroness Schraeder busy entertaining two of his friends who were visiting from Salzburg, and the last thing she would want to do was to interrupt them.

"I'll probably pay for this one later," Maria muttered, making her way towards the stairs leading to the attic. "_And do you or do you not have difficulty remembering such simple instructions_?" she mimicked the Captain's military tone. "And there isn't even a thunderstorm raging outside. When I will finally learn to say no when those children look at me like that? It is terribly wrong, I know. Even Sister Margaretta would abhor such bad use of educational methods."

If Gretl had chosen any other collection of fairy tales, she would simply convince her that not only _one _book only would supply enough reading material for an afternoon, but also that the collection in the library would do just fine. By that time, she knew how to show the children who was in charge when she had to, and even apply some mild discipline, if necessary – although her ideas about the meaning of discipline were much different than those of her employer.

However, Gretl had asked specifically for the _Fairy Books_… Maria just had to see them, had to touch one of them again!

No, they would not be the same ones she used to admire as a child, the ones that she inherited from her mother, kept under lock and key by her uncle. She used to think that he was afraid she would damage them, but the truth was that he intended to sell them to the highest bidder – which he did, eventually, to a book collector from Munich. She never saw the precious Fairy Books again. Sometimes she craved that sweetness. She had so few memories of her mother, and each little scrap of remembrance was dear to her. Maybe if she touched those books, smelled them, if she read then, if she looked at the beautiful illustrations, she would remember more.

Still mumbling, she headed towards the attic. The children used to sneak up there once in a while, especially Brigitta, who said it was the best place in the house to read. Maria always wondered if the Captain knew about their little transgression. She had been there only once before, in the early days while the Captain was still in Vienna with the Baroness, when Liesl and Louisa had dragged her there to see the family photographs (1). There was no other room in the house where Agathe's presence was so strong, almost like her ghost still lingered… The feeling got stronger and stronger, with every step that Maria climbed. Her worried about the Captain were replaced by much darker, equally disturbing thoughts. Maria began to imagine Agathe´s ghost, dressed as Empress Sissy in a white ball gown, with diamond stars in her beautiful long hair, just as she had seen her in one the pictures the children had showed, taken in the last _grand and glorious _party at the Trapp Villa, just a few months before her death. She knew that the dress would be in one of the many trunks stored there, the same one where Agathe´s wedding gown was kept – the girls had shown both dresses to her that day.

Maria shivered, and laughed at her own foolishness. Ghosts! It was a gorgeous day in Salzburg, and it was so clear and bright and beautiful outside it was almost hurt her eyes. It was the farthest thing from a gothic novel she could imagine, she thought. If there was one sensible ghost in that house, he or she would be outside enjoying the day, climbing up mountains and singing. Just as she planned to do, as soon as the children's afternoon reading hour was over.

Mumbling about ghosts and apparitions, and the absurdity of it all, she searched for the Fairy Books. "Let me see," Maria talked to herself. "Brown, crimson, red, orange, yellow, olive, green, blue, lilac, violet, pink – I must not forget this one - and gray," she said. "One, two, three… twelve!" she counted, shaking off the feeling that she was being observed. "Give up, I am _not _afraid of ghosts," she said in a louder voice.

She was about to run back downstairs, carrying the precious, twelve colorful volumes with her, when the grand piano caught her attention. It was covered with a very dusty old linen cloth. It was the one object in the room that the children _never_ touched, and she always wondered what it looked like. She had heard the stories about the musical evenings in which the Captain playing that same piano. How could she not be curious?!

Maria gave in to temptation.

"_Just a peek,"_ the thought. "_What harm can there be in just looking? It is not that I can even play it. I wouldn't dare!" _She raised the cloth and looked underneath it.

"Don't - touch - it!" Captain von Trapp spoke sharply behind her. It was his old tone, the one he used during her first night in the house, and when he fired her after the boat incident. She jumped, letting out a small cry. The books fell from her arms and scattered all over the floor, and she hastily bent to pick them up. He made no motion to help her.

"I believe I already said that there are certain rooms in this house that are to be left undisturbed. I may have failed to mention that it includes whatever is _inside_ each room," he gestured to the uneven pile of books she now clutched to her chest. "Although by now I am aware that your brain operates under a completely different set of logical rules!"

"You did... say it, Captain." she was trembling.

Ghosts, indeed! Maybe they were easier to deal than that brooding, angry sea captain. _He_ had been watching her all the time, and she had been so distracted that she had not noticed it. What was more infuriating was that he seemed to be making a habit of that lately. But what was she thinking? He had every right to be upset. She was there, the governess, snooping through his wife's personal belongings. It was unforgivable.

"Wasn't I clear enough?" he asked curtly.

"You were, Captain, crystal clear, but things…"

He ignored her. "Since there is no sign of a thunderstorm outside, I cannot think of a plausible reason why you should disobey my specific orders".

"I'm sorry, but I thought… I thought…" _She thought he had changed…_ He had, but not completely. Once in a while, a little something happened that was enough to remind her of that. "I thought things had changed," she answered truthfully.

"Some things never change, Fräulein Maria," was the bitter response.

She sighed, in defeat. "I did not mean to pry or to disturb your… the Baroness's belongings, Captain. The truth is..."

"Yes?" He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Well, I had never seen a grand piano this close before, and I was - ehm – well, _curious_. As for being here, I was just looking for some books, and those are in full view in the shelf over there," she turned around to point at it. "I never opened any boxes or drawers; I promise you I did not."

"What were you looking for exactly?" His tone was still harsh, but there was just the slightest hint of softness, which was enough to encourage her.

"Fairy tales to read for the children."

"Did you find what you wanted?" She nodded, and showed him the colorful books.

"Hah! Lang's Fairy Books!"

"Yes. I had… my mother had this same edition when I was a child," she commented, with a sad smile.

"Oh?" Again, the raised eyebrows, which gave him an impossibly haughty air. It was not, however, a sign of irony this time. "Were they given to the poor, along with your clothes, perhaps?"

"No, I am afraid not," she replied, without being able to disguise the sadness in her voice. "I wish they had!"

"Now, don't tell me that the good nuns of Nonnberg burned your books filled with pagan tales of witches, fairies and – uh – maybe an innocent maiden imprisoned in a castle by a wicked evil _dragon_?"

"Of course not," she replied, appalled. "You may not believe it, Captain, but even in the Abbey, we do not live in the Middle Ages! They – we do not believe in burning books over there."

"Oh yes – I had forgotten all about your _liberal_ education," he sneered. For a moment, Maria thought that he might question her about it all over again, like he had done before, or worse, to ask her about the fate of her beloved Fairy books. To her relief, he did neither. "We have all of Andrew Lang´s books in the library downstairs, brand new editions, in English and in German. Why these?"

"They…" Maria bit her lips.

"I am waiting, Fräulein. They what?"

She was extremely loyal to her little charges. The bond between them and their father grew stronger every day, and she would hate to be the cause of anything that could spoil it. The last thing she wanted was the Captain mad at Marta and Gretl. The Captain however, seemed suspicious all of a sudden, and not because of the children.

"What happened to your books, Fräulein?" he fired.

Her jaw dropped open in shock. 'Captain, are you suggesting that I…"

"Fräulein, you may aim your torpedoes elsewhere, because I am not suggesting anything. Like you, I am just suffering from a sudden attack of curiosity!

"Very well, if you must know, my uncle sold them to a book collector from Munich after my mother died… Why?" It was her turn to throw him a look of defiance. He started laughing, and the low sound made her uneasy. "_What_?"

He looked up at her. "Because I _bought_ these from a book collector from Munich!" he exclaimed, with a dangerous smile.

"_No, it couldn't be_," Maria thought frantically. It would have been too much of a coincidence, one of those that even she would not believe in. Yet, she could not resist looking – there was something she needed to see. Quickly, before he could say anything to stop her, she placed the books on top of the piano, and picked the one which used to be her favorite – the blue book. Holding her breath, a she opened it in the first page of _The Beauty and the Beast,_ fighting hard not to allow hope to overcome her.

"Those were not my mother's," she told him a second later, unable to hide her disappointment.

"Are you absolutely certain?" he asked softly. It was odd, but she could detect a hint of disappointment in his voice as well. It was almost, just almost, he wished that she had found her mother´s lost books.

"_What difference would it make?_" she asked herself. "_He probably would not return the books to me, they are simply too valuable. Even if he did, I would not be able to keep them, for I would have to give them up as soon as I returned to the Abbey._"

Closing the blue book, as she could not bear to look at it anymore. "Because there was a little drawing of mine in the first page of _Beauty and the Beast._"

"And?"

"And this one has not," she completed, doing her best to swallow the sudden knot in her throat, as she pretended to arrange the small volumes in a neat pile once more.

"Are you quite sure? Maybe you were mistaken, maybe you'll find your – uh - _artwork_ somewhere else, maybe in another book."

"No, I am sure. _Beauty and the Beast _used to be my favorite story when I was little." There was that, of course, and there was also the fact that her uncle had given her the worst beating of her life when he discovered what she had done. Naturally, she could not reveal that to her employer now.

"Allow me, Fräulein," was his unexpected, gentlemanly offer. He reached for the books she had in her hands. She followed him down the stairs. They walked in silence, until they reached the hallway which led to the nursery. "Here," he said, handling her the collection. "I trust you to keep an eye on them, please. I don't wish to find any of my children's artwork in one of those pages."

"Thank you, I'll be very careful."

"I still fail to understand why they insisted upon those!"

"_Because they belonged to their mother, you mule-headed oaf!_" she wanted to yell. Instead, she held herself back, and even came up with a reasonable answer. "The pictures, of course. The books in the library are not as beautifully illustrated as these." He frowned at her. "Books are meant to be _read_, Captain. Read, touched and loved…"

"O-ho, brilliantly said," he mocked. The man who had not been able to disguise that he had been moved by her childhood story was gone. The martinet was back once more, and he was glaring down sardonically at her.

"What I mean is that it is a crime to keep such a beautiful collection here, to mold and feed bookworms, while your children could learn so much from it." His stillness innerved her, and she continued talking. "Which brings me back to that beautiful piano – it probably needs tuning and…"

"Don't you _dare _touching my piano, Fräulein, I warn you." Maria swallowed, as he practically shouted the words at her. "Just… take the blasted books and go. _Now,_" he barked, and she rushed down the hallway.

---

_A/N: (1) Intermezzo II – Family Album – work in progress._


	2. Chapter 2

_**IN VINO VERITAS**_

_**CHAPTER 2**_

**_A/N: This story was not submitted to a beta yet. However, it has been throughly revised and expanded, and another new chapter added. A little warning - the changes made the story a bit darker, and probablymore controversial. So, if you like to see Georg and Maria as practically perfect in every way, maybe you should stay away from this one. _**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own The Sound of Music, etc._**

_**---**_

_**"He who fights too long against dragons becomes a dragon himself**__**..." **_

_**Friedrich Nietzsche**_

_**---**_

_**Drink to me only with thine eyes,  
And I will pledge with mine;  
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,  
And I'll not look for wine.  
**_

_**Ben Jonson**_

---

The dreams came again that night, more disturbing than ever.

She was the maiden locked in a tower, with nothing but books of fairy stories to keep her company. A dragon with midnight blues eyes kept her there, but she had not exactly been captured by him. She had been lured into his den, powerless to resist. There was a glimmer of hope when a knight came to rescue her. His face was hidden at first, but when he opened the helmet, and all she could see were his eyes – midnight blue, just like the dragon's. He spoke to her, and his voice… it was the voice of the dragon. The images of the dream blurred into a kaleidoscope, centered in those very eyes that fascinated her, the only thing that she could see clearly. Until realization came with a shock. She should have known. They did not only have the same eyes. The knight and the dragon were one and the same, and they both were...

Captain von Trapp.

She woke up just in time stifle a scream. Too agitated to sleep again, she found herself walking restlessly around the house, trying to convince herself that the dream was a result of reading too many fairy tales with the children lately, and, of course, the conversation with the Captain earlier in the day. There was probably a reason for her foster parents not allowing her to read too much – with her overactive imagination, and her head constantly in the clouds, they used to say that feeding her mind with fantastic stories of adventure and romance would only lead her to trouble later in life. Naturally, she had never believed them.

When her heartbeat finally returned to its normal heard, she heard the music: haunting accords coming from a piano. Whoever was playing was much more than just an average musical talent, she could certainly tell as much. She tiptoed outside to find out where the music came from, and she noticed that, curiously, the sounds came from above.

There was only one place upstairs where she knew a piano could be. _The attic!_

Well, virtuoso or not, he or she, would be in serious trouble if the Captain was hearing it too. She waited at the bottom of the stairs to the attic for several minutes, just listening to the music, and, at the same time, bracing herself for the Captain running past her to see who dared to touch the precious instrument. Nothing happened. Feeling braver, she decided to solve the mystery herself, and maybe warn the pianist about the strict rules concerning that piano.

She climbed the stairs slowly, savoring the melody, so hauntingly beautiful that she thought it might be her ghost after all. Dark and yet passionate. She had never heard it before, and later she would be told that it was a Prelude from the famous Russian composer who was taking the world by storm – Rachmaninoff. Dream and reality became one in a minute, and she headed towards the music just as the princess in the dream walked up the tower, lured by the dragon.

The door was ajar. Carefully, Maria approached it, in small steps, on her bare toes, closer and closer, too curious about that she was going to find to be afraid. If it was indeed a ghost, she had no wish to disturb it. If he was her dragon…

"_Yo no creo en las brujas, pero que las hay, las hay,_" her friend Cristina, also a postulant at Nonnberg Abbey, whispered all the time. It translated roughly as "_I do not believe in witches, but I do not doubt that they _exist". Maria believed it could be applied to ghosts, dragons and other fantastic creatures just as well.

There was only the faintest light coming from inside – a white-blue moonbeam coming from the window, which gave the scene an eerie, phantasmagorical appearance. It was a full moon's night, and it was so bright that hardly any light would be needed, even to read the music.

"_Not a ghost, but the dragon himself,_" she thought, when she saw Captain von Trapp sitting at the piano.

There were no music sheets, which told her that he was playing from memory. He sat on the bench, so focused on the music that he did not see her. Maria stood there, as still as one of the statues that graced the garden. She did not know what fascinated her most – the Captain or the music that seemed to be pouring out of him. His long fingers flew over the keyboard with maddening speed, never missing the right key. It was not only his hands, however – his whole body seemed to be involved by the music. He was almost in a trance. All she knew was that she wanted just to stay there, unnoticed, watching him as he played.

His appearance distressed her, however. The expression in his face could only be described as anguish – such angst and despair that Maria, having such a sensitive soul, felt her heart tighten. A half empty bottle of red wine lay on the table, and it looked like he had not even bothered to fetch a glass to drink it.

"_So this is what it looks like,"_ she thought, mesmerized. "_Pain, grief. Is this what I would look like if I had not found the Abbey?" _Nothing in her life, not even in her troubled early years, could be compared to what she could read in his posture, only by looking at him from a distance. "_This is what he hides behind his aristocratic mask. His sarcasm, his dry sense of humor. This is Georg von Trapp. Not the Captain, not the Baron." _

It was the first time Maria ever saw him in such a state. He was never anything but impeccably dressed and clean shaven, his thick dark brown hair neatly combed back. Even during their more relaxing times with the children, he wore a suit and tie. Seeing him like that was strangely disturbing. Unsettling.

He wore no tie at all – and Maria could have sworn he even slept with a tie. His pristine white shirt was not quite tucked, and the top two buttons were open. His hair was disheveled, and a stubborn lock fell on his forehead. There was a shadow of a beard in his cheek already. He looked – wild, untamed. As wicked as a dragon, as rakish as a pirate... A pirate who ravished the maidens in the ships he captured, not a sea captain and a naval hero.

Mortified by the direction of her thoughts, Maria stepped back. She did not wish to intrude any longer in what was obviously a very private moment. Most of all, it that it would mortify him, to be caught in such an unguarded state.

He must have seen the flickering caused by her moving shadow, because the music stopped immediately, and his hands rested in the black and white keys.

"Are you there my love?" he whispered, in a tone Maria had never heard before – soft, low and seductive. She did not have to think too hard to know who he was talking to. It was like a knife in her heart, and the feeling was so keen in was almost physical. At the same time, a wave of longing swept over her – something she had never felt before. Longing for what?

"_To hear someone talking to you like that,"_ a voice inside her said. "_To be worthy like that, and to love in return..."_

_My love._

Maria gasped and although it was the faintest of sounds, the Captain heard it.

He banged the keyboard, making a dissonant, unpleasant noise. "_Who_ is there?" he barked. Maria jumped, taking a few steps backwards. "Show yourself, you little coward!"

"_There is no use in hiding now, it would only make things worse,"_ Maria thought. The last thing she wanted was the Captain running after her down the stairs, waking the whole household in the process.

Bravely, she stepped inside the room. The moonlight fell squarely over her.

"It is just me," she said weakly.

"_You_," he growled. Then he shook his head, and chuckled. "Of all the… I should have guessed, it could only be _you_."

He looked up and stared sternly at her for a moment, with an expression of such blatant hostility in his eyes that made her cringe. Maria fidgeted with the knot holding her robe together, tightening it.

"I'm sorry Captain, but I heard something and I thought… I thought you might need… I thought you were…"

Oh Lord, this was entirely outside the realm of her experiences, and she did not know for sure how to act. Not only he was her employer, but he was also a handsome man – she had never been enough of a hypocrite to deny the fact – in a much disheveled state, which, to her dismay, only added to his appeal. Besides, he had clearly been drinking – a bit too much, maybe. Maria had her own very good reasons to stay away from people in that state.

"It could have been the children," she finished, finding the perfect excuse at last, and smiling inwardly, proud of herself for her reasonably quick wit. And the hopefully apparent steadiness of her nerves.

"Ah yes. Naturally the children." He kept staring at her, his eyes narrowing into slits. She had hoped that, at this point, he would already have interrupted her, snapping at her for being where she was explicitly told, several times in fact, was off limits to her. His silence was worse than his bark.

"Ahem… I am sorry I have disturbed you, Captain. I did not mean to. Honestly, I did not." and proceeded to leave hastily.

Slowly, then, a half smile formed in his lips. It was enough to make her stop where she was. She knew that smile well, an indication of his worst moods. But there was something there she had not sensed before, a feeling that hit her in the pit of her stomach. She clutched her hands there.

"Again we meet here, twice in the same day, and _again_ you find yourself where you are not supposed to be. Are you _ever_ where you are supposed to be?"

"Well, I…."

"Tell me the truth, Fräulein. You are an appalling liar. Why did you come all the way up here in the middle of the night?"

"I heard this beautiful music, and I wondered who was playing, since no one I knew in the house could play like that. I certainly did not know you could, although I have been told by the children that you... ehrm… So I thought…"

"You thought I was either a ghost or the mad wife in the attic, didn't you? You were too curious, you had to see." he said sarcastically.

There was a reason for that last comment. The children enjoyed her reading aloud for them. It was a habit of Maria, something she enjoyed doing at the Abbey. Reading there had been restricted to religious works, but the von Trapp library, on the other hand, provided her with a wide variety of books of every genre. Only a few days earlier, he walked in while she was reading Jane Eyre for Liesl, Louisa and Brigitta, and he stayed to listen. The next day he returned, and became a regular presence in her reading sessions, even if it was a fairy tale she was reading for the smaller children.

"I am not afraid of ghosts," she said defiantly, her chin up, with a confidence that, deep inside, she did not feel.

"No, of course not. You are not afraid of _anything_, are you? He sneered. "Nothing scares you, does it? Thunderstorms, children, spiders, whistles, pine cones, sea captains, the Austrian Imperial Navy, mean nuns, grand pianos, and now ghosts of dead wives. Maybe you should be afraid, Fräulein. Maybe you should," he said looking at her intently. She shivered visibly, and crossed her arms over her chest, in an unconscious defensive gesture.

"Afraid of what?" she dared to ask.

"And she even has to _ask_!" he shook his head, looking upward, as if talking to another invisible presence in the room.

Lowering her eyes, she took a deep breath and steadied her voice, trying desperately to change the subject. "You do play very well, Captain. I am very much impressed."

"Indeed I do," he said wryly. "Just another skill required by my pretentious education. By the way, my children never lie – at least they were taught not to. But was that a compliment from you, I heard? I'm rather surprised."

"Why is that?"

"I never thought you would have anything good to say about me," was his self deprecatory answer. "To be honest I thought you did not like me very much."

Maria was rendered speechless by his admission. "Oh, Captain, I… I…"

"Come in," he gestured. "Don't just… stand over there like an unusually covered Greek statue. I could use some intelligent company. Do you play?"

"Hah, no!" she chuckled. "I have enough trouble managing six chords in a guitar. Handling eighty-five piano keys may be well beyond my capabilities. I simply lack the discipline."

"Eighty-eight keys," he corrected. "If you can teach seven children sing madrigals, you can handle seven octaves plus a minor third easily. Let me see what you can do," he shifted his stool a little to the left, to make some space for her. Maria remained frozen where she was. "Come on, I am quite sure you will surprise me in one way or another – like you've done with everything else you do."

"Oh no, I couldn't possibly! Your children are all musically inclined, Captain, and now I know where they got it from. Teaching them was no hard task." Maria said, taking a step backwards. "Now, if you excuse me."

"Wait!" he stopped her. "Just… forget all I said. That was a foolish excuse from a man in desperate need of some human company, dead or alive – as it seems like even the dead are deserting me tonight. Please – _stay_!" He showed her a tall stool next to the piano. She sat down, her stance prim and straight, arranging the folds of her nightgown and robe around her.

He noticed it.

"Don't worry, your virtue is safe with me tonight," he taunted. "We von Trapps are a ridiculously honorable lot, so they say. We make the best sea captains, but we are too dull to be pirates." He raised the bottle to her, in a mock toast, and proceeded to drink. With him looking and talking like that, Maria was not sure she believed what he said. To her utter dismay, he offered the bottle to her. "Here, have some. You look like you need it as much as I do."

Her mouth dropped open. "Captain, I don't…"

"Take it," he insisted, in a softer voice now. "One sip won't make you drunk, nor will it send you straight to the purgatory. It will undoubtedly make it easier for you to tolerate my brooding."

Trying to keep her hand firm, she took the bottle from him, their fingers brushing slightly in the process – just like it had happened that very first day, when he had handled the whistle. It was disturbingly intimate, to drink from the same bottle as he had, to place her lips where his had been… Yet, she faced the task bravely, and took a healthy sip of the wine, as he watched her every reaction, her every gesture, with unprecedented attention. Afterwards, with a look of challenge in her face, she returned the bottle to him, and he placed it on top of the piano. Fervently, she hope that she had acted casually, as if drinking wine from a bottle with a handsome sea captain was an every day occurrence in her life.

"Not the best vintage, I'm afraid" he said apologetically when he noticed that she had struggled a bit to swallow the wine. "In fact I would not even allow it in my cellar, if it were not a gift from a very dear friend from my old Navy days. However, it is perfect for nights like this… for places like this."

"Oh, not to worry, Captain, it is far better than the consecrated wine we have at the conv…" she stopped, covering her mouth with her hand, but it was already too late – she had revealed one of her very few secrets to him. It was, in fact, her _only_ secret – at least the only one meaningful enough to be remembered as such. The Captain, however, did not take it badly, he did not seem angry or scandalized by her behavior. If one of the more strict sisters had found out about it – Sister Berthe, for instance, or even the Reverend Mother, she was fairly certain that she would have been expelled from Nonnberg for good.

"So you have drunk wine before," he chuckled. "All that needless worrying about corrupting your soul and keeping you for heading straight to heaven…"

"Only once…" he raised an eyebrow, a clear sign that she should explain herself further. "It's true! I… we… we were curious about how it tasted, so one of the postulants managed to…"

"_One_ - of the postulants?"

She rolled her eyes, "Well, _I_ managed to borrow…"

"Uh – to _borrow_, Fräulein?"

"Very well, I _took_ one of the bottles so that we could…" he frowned at her, "All right, so that _I _could have a taste of it."

"And?" The man was persistent, she had to admit. If he ever questioned a war prisoner like that, she had little doubt that he had been brilliantly successful.

"I was never caught, if that is what you are asking, Captain, although the headache I had the following day was punishment enough."

"A postulant with a mighty hangover... and to think that I believed I had seen and heard everything from you!" he said sarcastically.

"I was not exactly drunk, I was just… a bit dizzy. It wasn't even a full bottle, there was only one quarter of it left…" He cast a doubtful glance. "All right, half a bottle… Where was the piano before?" she asked, hastily, once more to change the subject away from her person. He laughed at her quick change of subject.

She _was_ getting dizzy now, but it had nothing to do with the feeling she once had after drinking wine for the first time. No, it was an entirely different feeling, equally new, but a thousand times more frightening. No, one sip of his wine was not the cause of it, it was not what was getting into her head. The cause of it was _him_, and that was clear enough to her.

"The piano used to be in the ballroom," he answered her question casually, apparently unaware of her inner turmoil. "I had it brought up here after the children's mother died."

"I was thinking…"

"Oh… no, no, no, no, _no_! Yes, yes, you were _thinking. _I know very well what is going on this devious, scheming little mind of yours."

"It _is_ a magnificent grand piano, Captain, even though it's been so sadly neglected. And the orchestra the Baroness hired for the ball will need one. Why rent one when you have the most…"

"Fräulein!"

"Captain?"

"Raid my cellar in the middle of the night, if you will, but _leave my piano alone_." He warned. "As I said before – what is in the attic, stays in the attic. I don't want these things around the house anymore. They belong to another time." He shook his head. "I should know that you would not just sit quietly and listen. Not you."

"Well, if you want me to leave all you have to do is ask…"

"No. I do not. Please stay."

He began to play again, and Maria let herself to be carried by the music.


	3. Chapter 3

_**IN VINO VERITAS**_

_**CHAPTER 3**_

**_A/N: This story was not submitted to a beta yet. However, it has been throughly revised and expanded, and another new chapter added. A little warning - the changes made the story a bit darker, and probablymore controversial. So, if you like to see Georg and Maria as practically perfect in every way, maybe you should stay away from this one. _**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own The Sound of Music, etc._**

**---**

_**Wine comes in at the mouth  
And love comes in at the eye;  
That's all we shall know for truth  
Before we grow old and die.  
**_

_**William Butler Yeats**_

_**---**_

_**A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,  
A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread - and Thou  
Beside me singing in the Wilderness -  
Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow!  
**_

_**The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, st. 12**_

_**---**_

Maria was the first to break the silence, after the sound of the last note had died.

"What was that? It sounds very familiar, but I can't remember the name."

"Debussy - _Clair de Lune, de la Suite Bergamasque_," he provided in what sounded to her like flawless French. "Hmmm…" he hummed.

"Yes?"

"I was thinking that you _are_ a good listener, when you apply yourself to it."

_Not quite,_ Maria thought.

In fact, she had been mesmerized watching him as he played. He had rendered her speechless. It would be months until she would understand the nature feelings that overwhelmed her, body and soul. There was something about him, an aura that she had never sensed before, something that she had never been exposed to. It frightened her, and, at the same time, fascinated her. He bared his soul to her with his music. As he played, he emanated a sensuality that was so raw, so basic it was almost tangible, even to someone as innocent as Maria. She was unable to name it, but she felt it, from head to toe.

As he sat there, at the grand piano, looking like the tormented Brontë hero of her imagination, she stared at him again, taking in every detail: the tousled hair falling on his forehead that did not bother to brush back, the open shirt, the elegant, long fingered hands which at times caressed and at times slammed the piano keys. She studied the expression in his face. His patrician profile displayed a raw, earthy, masculine quality that she could very well perceive, since it was virtually tangible. What she failed to understand was the power it had over her, a power that made her impossible to flee from his presence, back to the safety of her room. A force that made it hard for her to even breathe, but at the same time, could not stop her from looking at him. No, the half a bottle of stolen wine she had drunk at the Abbey had certainly not affected her like this.

"I probably should go to bed now…" she straightened herself, concluding that she had allowed her thoughts to go to far – he was, after all, her employer, the children's father, and it could not be right to think of him in any other manner.

"Yes, to bed. At least you will be alone - you are not planning to take any ghosts with you, are you?"

"I don't think I know what you mean, Captain."

"Of course you don't. Do ghosts trouble you as well, Fräulein?" He shot her a sideways glance, his eyes so light blue, so transparent under the moonlight. She stiffened. But he never waited for her to answer. "I am inclined to believe so, at least tonight. You are much too quiet and too… accommodating, not questioning everything I say, not fighting back, not even challenging me. I ask, you answer. You lie, I push you just a little, and you tell me the truth. It has never been so easy, even with my most unruly cadets. You're out of character, not quite your usual self, and that can be the only explanation. So tell me… What dark thoughts haunt you?"

"Dark thoughts?" she repeated.

"What the hell am I saying," he hissed, and she winced slightly at the blasphemy. "None, of course. How could someone like _you_ have a dark side?"

She blinked. "Everybody has a dark side, Captain. Even I do."

"Oh, do you?" was his derisive remark.

"I most certainly do! You've seen it yourself that day you returned from Vienna, when I yelled at you. And just now when I told you about the wine I took from the cellar."

"And do you think _that_ your dark side? Your temper? Or is it your occasional propension to piracy?"

"Ehm – my occasional propension to _what_, Captain?"

"I am referring to your nocturnal incursions in the Nonnberg cellars."

"It was only that one time, Captain. And yes, I do have a foul temper when I am provoked. You have seen nothing of it yet, you have not witnessed my worse tantrums! We each have our own ghosts and demons and dr…"

"_Dragons?_" he interrupted her. His eyes were a pale, moonlight blue now, and they gleamed just like the ones of the dragon in her dream. "You've been reading too many fairy tales lately, Fräulein, and they seem to be getting into your head. Or was it the mere possibility of finding your mother's books in my possession that disturbed you so?" He looked at her for a long time, while she remained silent – it was the same gaze she had seen in one of her dreams about him, the one in which it was him waiting for her at the altar where she was going to take her vows, and not the Reverend Mother and the Bishop. Like in the dream, she could not tear her gaze away from him, until he finally spoke again. It was him who looked away then.

"There is so much _light_ around you that sometimes it is just… unbearable." He thought for a moment. "Yes, you are right. How could anything haunt you? You are… an empty page! As wholesome and… _pure,_" he nearly choked on the word, "as they come. You've been so sheltered, locked inside those convent walls that you have not even _lived_."

"That is not entirely true, Captain," she protested vehemently. "You simply don't know enough about me to accuse me of not having lived at all. My life may have been different from yours, I may not have seen much of the world, but it is my life, and I treasure it as it is."

"O-ho, indubitably! However, Fräulein Maria, if your most sinful secret is to have stolen half a bottle consecrated wine from the cellar of a decrepit old priest, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you have not lived at all. "

Maria crossed her arms in front of her chest, as the words were out of her mouth before she could even think of what she was saying.

"Maybe unlike you, Captain, I never had the opportunity and the means to commit worse sins than those!"

Again the ominous low laugh. "You mean you have never actually been _tempted_ to do anything worse?"

She shrugged, and answered him truthfully. "No, I don't think I have."

"What if you were – uh - _tempted_? What would you do?" His eyes narrowed and darkened, and it was like his whole body tensed, waiting for her answer.

"Well, nothing!" she smiled, dropping her hands to her side again, her body language a clear indication that she was being completely honest.

"_Nothing_?"

"I am much stronger now, Captain. It is all part of the process of learning how to be a good nun."

"Are you trying to tell me that you would magnanimously say no to temptation and walk away, unscathed? No qualms, no regrets?"

"Yes…"

"How fabulously naïve to believe that of yourself!" he spat.

"Yet, I do. Why is it so difficult to believe, Captain?" she challenged him.

"Because it is not like you at all. It is not like me either – it is probably the one thing we have in common."

"Oh?"

"We both live under very strict rules, Fräulein, but we choose the one we will and the ones we will not obey. You did that from the very first moment you walked into this house. That day, and in the days that followed, you broke more rules that I care to remember. The thing is that you seemed to know exactly which rules to ignore or break – the right ones!"

"Yes, Captain, that maybe right about me, but what about _you_?"

His tone was sarcastic when he answered her. "I won't bore you with tales from my glorious days at sea to convince you of that. Maybe some other time," he sipped his wine. "However, right now I am breaking at least half a dozen rules of propriety. To begin with, I am here, in the middle of the night, in a deplorable state of undress, with my governess in her nightclothes, discussing matters that have nothing to do with my children's upbringing or the running of the household. Worse, I even insisted that she drank some of my wine – from the bottle. How depraved, how absolutely improper is that?!"

"But I am here talking to you, and I took your wine! What does that make me then?" she blurted out. Was it a relief that he had acknowledged, in a sentence, everything that had been disturbing her from the beginning? Or did that admission only made the atmosphere more charged? Probably the second – now they both knew they were threading on dangerous ground, they knew that they were playing with fire.

"Remind me – what did you just say about being able to walk away from temptation?" he mocked.

"Captain!" she glared at him. "I am not…"

"No, you obviously are _not_ many things, Fräulein. Tell me then… have you ever lost a loved one?" he asked abruptly. "Have you? Someone so close to you that you shared the same soul, if not your body?"

_I lost my whole family,_ she was tempted to say, even though But her family had always been distant from her, she had not actually felt their love. And what did her body have to do with anything?

She shifted on her stool. "No, I don't think I have. Not in the way you describe it, at least."

"If you never loved and lost before, then you can't know… you can't know what it means to have lived."

"I can imagine… can't I?"

"No, you cannot. You can read about it, you may argue, but that does not compare to feeling it. The Baroness was absolutely right about you the other day. Elsa's powers of observation have always been sharp (1)." She shook her head. "You still deny it, of course. Yet, it is written all over you."

"I am not sure what exactly you are reading, but I am not trying to deny what I am, Captain. It would be hypocritical of me to do so. Nor I have any wish to flaunt what I am, as if it were the only right way to live. What I refuse to believe is that being a… being a…"

"A _virgin_," he provided. Oddly enough, there was not the slightest hint of irony, in his eyes, or in his voice, when he said the word. The Baroness said it almost like a curse the other day. The Captain, on the contrary, said it almost reverently. But still, the word, coming from him, made her flinch. Probably because until very recently, the only thing that mattered to Maria about virgins was that she was one, a condition that was not going to be changed for as long as she lived. It all began to change when she had to deal with Marta and Gretl´s curiosity about the basic mysteries of life. Since that day, Maria had not given the matter any further thought, until she heard the word from him.

"I was going to say a future nun!" she said cautiously, even though she could feel her face on fire. Fortunately, she hoped that the moon glow would keep him from noticing it.

"You were, but it was not what you were thinking, and it was not what I was thinking either – not after our earlier conversation. So much for not being a hypocrite, Fräulein!" He toasted again, taking another large sip from the wine bottle.

"_Guilty as charged,_" Maria thought. Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she lowered her eyes to the triangle of skin in his open collar. That was a huge mistake. Feeling oddly warm at the sight of what appeared to be a hint of chest hair, she tore her gaze again once more. Why was it becoming so difficult _not_ to think about him that way before? The worst part of it is that he did not even try to hide the fact that he was noticing her discomfort, that he knew exactly what she was feeling. When she tore her gaze from his chest to look heavenward, he let out a low chuckle. It was enough to bring her back to her senses, as a few of her brain cells started functioning again, so that she could, at least, defend herself, even if she had to choke on the words.

"My vir…" No, she did not want to say the word. "My _condition_ does not make anyone oblivious to life, least of all me. It does not mean that I have never lived and that I will never experience life." A sudden idea sprung in her mind and she added. "It does _not_ make the Reverend Mother any less wise than she is."

"_Touché_! Nevertheless, you are most definitely _not_ the Reverend Mother, and I sincerely doubt that she were like you when she was your age. God knows you would not be sitting here if you were! Nor you are right about her. The Mother Abbess's great wisdom comes from her age, from guiding too many troubled little misfits like you, helping them to find their way into the world. You are old enough to be her granddaughter, so unless you had a little taste of what you are giving up, don't try to convince me you are already wise in the ways of the world, at least wise enough to give it up…"

"Captain!" she gasped, but he did not stop.

"You wanted so much taste of that consecrated wine that you risked being expelled from the Abbey in order to do it, didn't you?" She looked at him, her eyes narrowing. She opened her mouth to speak up, to give him a piece of her mind, but no words would come to her. His next question was even more outrageous. "Stop gawking at me, Fräulein, you know I am right about this. I wonder what other little commandments would you be willing to break before committing yourself to your sacred vows, just to … How was it that you said? To know what it tasted like…"

His words appalled her. He could not be suggesting that she… Oh no, it would be much too outrageous, too scandalous, notably coming from _him_. Her friend Theresa (1), who was openly unsure about her religious vocation, might have been tempted by the suggestion, but she? The sorrows and the joys of secular life had never interested her in particular, not after the way her family had been shattered. If there was any joy, it would lead only to sorrow and heartache – that was the one valuable lesson she carried from the few early years of her life when she had lived among people who used to call themselves her family.

She was barely able to hide her indignation when she answered him. "Ooooh, none, I…"

"I would not answer too quickly if I were you."

Slowly, he stood up – there was a determined look in his face as he held her gaze. When he took a step towards her, she stood up as well, and place her right hand on top of the piano. She gripped it until her knuckles were white, but she did not take a step back, and held her ground, firmly and bravely. For the first time in her life, Maria knew the meaning of temptation, and learned of her utter inability to fight it – at least against the elusive promise she could read in his eyes. She did not know for sure what was coming, but she knew what he was trying to prove – that she was no angel, no saint destined to martyrdom, that she was simply human and that she had to acknowledge that there were things that she would be powerless to resist.

"_Oh help! If he takes another step towards me, I am not going to be able to stop him_," was her desperate plea. He took another step in her direction, and her eyes fixed in the hollow of his throat. "_If he takes another step towards me, I will not be able to do anything else but walk towards him…"_

A loud noise was heard, coming from downstairs, drowning what she could swear was the sound of her name on his lips.

"What was that?" she asked breathlessly, both hands clutching her heart.

The sudden noise was more than enough to bring him to his senses as well, because as soon as she had uttered her question, he was already sitting at the piano again. "A door downstairs. Probably the wind. I think there might be a thunderstorm coming."

"But… but the night is so calm. And there is a full moon… How can there possibly… a storm?" she stuttered. She felt there was a storm going on already, it was all around them – with thunder and lightning. Obviously it was not the same kind of storm he was talking about.

"To a seasoned seaman, a calm moonlit night is never a guarantee that there will not be any storms on the way. Haven't you ever heard of the _lull before the storm?_" He smiled, and in the next moment, the moonlight was gone, covered by heavy dark clouds. Gone was the soft glow, and they were left in complete darkness. "See, I told you! Just stay where you are," he said in a commanding tone, sounding so much like the Captain she was used to in daylight that she sighed audibly, in relief. "I know there must be a candle somewhere in here."

Maria could hear him fumbling in the darkness, and wondered how he could possibly find his way around the cramped attic, filled with old boxes scattered all over. All she could see now and them was faint traces of lightning, probably coming from very far away, because the sound of thunder could not yet be heard. There was the sound of a match, and then a candle was lit. He placed it on top of the piano.

"Are you all right?" he asked, sounding seriously concerned, his face now illuminated by candlelight.

"I am not afraid of the dark," she said, and her voice trembled.

"No, but you _are_ afraid of me," he stated. "And not without reason, I should add."

"I don't know!" was her near desperate admission.

"I think the wine must finally be going up to my head. I am talking nonsense and I am being unforgivably rude to you. I owe you an apology. It is not you and your sacred virginity, which should not be none of my concern – or anyone else's. No, it is not you, it _cannot_ be you," he whispered, as if to himself. His hand clenched into fists, and for a moment she thought he was going to smash the piano keys again. "It is… _her. _It has to be her."

---

_A/N: (1) See The 12__th__ Governess._


	4. Chapter 4

_**IN VINO VERITAS**_

_**CHAPTER 4**_

**_A/N: This story was not submitted to a beta yet. However, it has been throughly revised and expanded, and another new chapter added. A little warning - the changes made the story a bit darker, and probablymore controversial. So, if you like to see Georg and Maria as practically perfect in every way, maybe you should stay away from this one. _**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own The Sound of Music, etc._**

_**---**_

_**The wine urges me on, the bewitching wine, which sets even a wise man to singing and to laughing gently and rouses him up to dance and brings forth words which were better unspoken.**_

_**Homer  
The Odyssey, bk. XIV, l. 463 **_

_**---**_

_**They are not long, the days of wine and roses:  
Out of a misty dream  
Our path emerges for a while, then closes  
Within a dream.  
**_

_**Ernest Dowson**_

_**---**_

"_It is… her. It has to be her."_

"_I should leave,"_ she reasoned with herself. "_It would be the wisest thing to do, the most sensible thing. But when have I been wise in dealing with_ him?_ Oh, I cannot leave him like this, I simply cannot. I cannot bear to look at him like this, yet I cannot leave. I won't forgive myself if I do… and I hope God will forgive me if I stay."_

"The Baroness?" Maria asked, tentatively, after his passionate words.

"Elsa has nothing to do with it either, except perhaps, because she could see right though you when I cannot! At least not entirely."

"No… the other Baroness," she whispered breathlessly. "Your Baroness. The children's mother," she clarified, speaking clearly now using the same expression he used whenever he was referring to her.

"Yes, _that_ Baroness – _my wife_." He looked up at her, his face devilish under the candle light. There was softness there – the same kind that she had detected as soon as she had walked in that room, and she heard him whispering the words "_my love". _He smiled sadly at the memory. "She was always at Nonnberg, seeking counsel from the Reverend Mother. They held each other in the highest possible regard. I wonder if you ever crossed paths with her… I wonder if she ever saw you around, whistling, climbing trees and sliding down banisters... No, she would mention it to me if she had. Had she seen you, she would certainly remember."

"Probably not, Captain. I am sure I would remember too if I ever met her. Not only that, Sister Berthe would now allow any of us postulants to be near her study when she was receiving guests from the outside world. I don't think we could possibly have met."

"You _would_ remember if you ever saw her, I am sure." he said. "No one ever seemed to be able to forget her, even now, nearly three years after her death. She was the most beautiful, the most perfect thing that ever walked the face of the earth… and I lost her," he began dreamingly, wistfully. "So utterly, absolutely perfect it was annoying, so I used to tease her by saying that her biggest flaw was that she had none. Not that she did not try to appear less perfect in my eyes, but she never quite succeeded. She only made herself more… adorable."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.'

"_Upset_ is hardly the right word, Fräulein, so there is no need to apologize. No, it is not you who upsets me, at least not in the way you think."

"But…"

"Yes, yes, you did _upset_ me, as you say, five minutes ago, and if it were not for that door slamming and the coming storm, I would certainly have done something that I would regret for the rest of my life. Maybe I was wrong all along, maybe you are meant to be a nun, and the coming storm was the Lord's way of protecting you…"

"I am not sure I was in need of any protection from you, Captain."

"Oh yes, you were!" was his almost inaudible whisper.

No, she did not want to talk about that – not anymore. Not _ever_ again in her entire life. She wanted to close her eyes and forget it, because somehow it felt that if she did not remember, it never happened. What made it worse was the fact that now he remembered the incident under such an ugly light. So she brought the subject back to the one ground she felt safe with him.

"Captain, it would mean a lot to the children if you at least considered bringing the piano back downstairs. I know it would."

It was useless. He ignored her remark. "Sometimes I wonder when it will not hurt so much to remember…"

"It won't, unless you let go."

"And how could you possibly know that, since by your own admission tonight you said you never loved and lost before? And not two days ago you said that you never longed for anything else other than becoming a cloistered nun?"

She spoke, if not to defend herself, only, to interrupt the disturbing thought that was just about to form in her mind. "You are right, Captain. Unlike you, I can only mourn for what I never had…" _And never will,_ a voice inside her whispered. "Although there is one thing I must say." She bit her lower lip before continuing.

"Go on," he encouraged, softly.

"I… It does not seem right to me, to keep everything up here, under lock and key. It is not… _healthy, _it cannot be. The children should look at those pictures, they should read those books, hear music coming from this piano. They need those memories. You…" she took a very deep breath, for courage, "… you have all the right to shut the memory of your wife in here, Captain, but you wife happens to be their _mother_. I hardly remember mine, but every little scrap of memory is precious to me – that is why the mere possibility of finding her books…" he voice caught.

"Fräulein…"

This time it was her turn not to let him interrupt her. "I was just thinking that at least bringing the piano and the book collection downstairs would…"

"Oh yes, children, I know." That sneer of distaste again. Maria bit her lower lip. "Where and how did you learn to be so wise?" She was not sure if he was mocking her, or indeed paying a much unexpected compliment. No, not wise. Being there with him in the middle of the night was nothing but that. Discussing matters that she supposed were never discussed between a governess and her employer. Becoming aware of her own innocence for the first time in her life in a way that was almost physical. Stopping herself just a fraction of a second before she threw herself into his arms. Her body was reacting, a reaction that could only be described as… _sinful_. For the first time in her life she had an inkling of what the word meant.

"You are right, Captain, I do not know the meaning of love, but I most certainly know the meaning of loss…" her voice trailed away, as he leaned forward in towards her. "What?"

"_Who_ did that to you?"

"_Who_ did _what_?"

"Who turned you into a…" he searched for words, "… an appalling, poor excuse of a vestal priestess?". He stopped, and his eyes gleamed, as the answer just occurred to him. "You _were_ left with nothing, weren't you? Not even a pitiful collection of children's books to keep you company… Even _that_ they took away from you, even a little girl's right to dream about a happily ever after fairy tale ending. No wonder you had no other alternative before you than that of becoming a nun."

He was much close to the truth for comfort. Speaking hastily, to avoid thinking to much about what he had just said, she spoke quickly, "I wouldn't that is the reason, Captain, just…"

"It's all right, I have not right to inquire about that. Who am I, after all, to question your religious vocation? I have stretched the bonds of propriety enough for one night already," he quipped, then thought for a moment. "The things I said were unforgivable, the things I almost did…" he stopped himself from finishing the sentence. "But you are right, she does live through the children. It is so very obvious, and yet I never actually thought about that." He took a deep, anguished breath. "You know, it would not even be seven if it were not for her."

"What?"

"We… I would have stopped at three. But she liked things… how can I say – symmetrical. And she was not particularly fond of odd numbers, I never knew why. She just… did not like them. We had Liesl and Friedrich and we were about to settle for that. Then Louisa came… it was unplanned, an accident – but it was she who made the way for the other four that followed. After that, she wanted another boy, to even things, and the result was Brigitta. When Kurt arrived, she came to the conclusion that the sex of the baby hardly mattered, and what she loved the most was _making_ babies and being pregnant, and taking care of children. She was happiest when she was pregnant. And if it made her happy, who was I to mind? She loved children more than anything else, and I learned to love them as well – at least ours. She used to say that the children made her feel she had a purpose in life, rather than being the useless socialite she was raised to be. Marta and Gretl came, and we never did a thing to prevent that… And Gretl was the last only because the doctors said an 8th pregnancy would be much too risk for her and the baby."

Maria remained silent, not sure what to say. He had revealed more about his life in the last minute than in the past six weeks. She wondered how much of the wine he had drunk – he was usually so enigmatic, so guarded. _In vino veritas,_ - there was some truth in that saying, at least.

Without a word, he started playing again, and once she did that, she simply could not walk away from him. Silence fell over the candlelit attic as the Captain finished the last accords of Chopin's prelude, _The Raindrop_. Maria was now leaning against the piano, her head supported by her right hand. It was that sudden quietness that brought her out of her trance.

"Oh my! I'm sorry. I must be more tired than I thought I was," she said, stifling a yawn.

"It is either that or my music bores you to near death. Where were you and this mind of yours just now? I could hear you breathe, it was _unsettling_."

_Unsettling? _She – Maria – was _unsettling? "Yet, it is I who make him uneasy tonight_…_"_ Maria thought.

"I am not bored by your music, on the contrary. Music could never bore me. You practically told me to shut up and listen while you played. It was a very clear command, and I just obeyed it"

"I thought you had trouble obeying orders when they were against your better judgment."

"Oh yes, but… this one wasn't!"

He silenced her. "It's all right, maybe it is wise that you go. I am feeling drowsy myself, and I'll probably retire soon as well. I would not like you to sleep on my piano. Or worse, fall asleep on your feet tomorrow when you are doing whatever you planned to do with my children. Besides, as I said, I think I stretched the limits of propriety far enough tonight. I have no wish to compromise you. I only hope that hasn't happened already."

"C… compromise me?" That was the last thing in her mind until he said it.

He nodded towards the door. "Franz could be just eavesdropping outside now – a disgraceful habit of his. Or even Frau Schmidt, or any of the maids. And tomorrow, all of Salzburg would know that Captain von Trapp spent half the night in the attic doing God knows what with his children's governess," he spoke bluntly.

He had a point. What if there were rumors, and what if those rumors reached the Abbey? She would be mortified. "But I didn't… we didn't… We did not do anything wrong, Captain." She thought for a moment, the scene interrupted by the storm flashing before her eyes again. "Did we?"

He smiled at her confusion and obvious embarrassment. "If we did or did not, it hardly matters. I just happen to know from experience how those kinds of rumors begin."

"I should go then." She looked at the window. The storm was fierce now. "It is pouring out there, I may have left a window open."

"Indeed you should go." She began to rise from her seat. "Fräulein?"

"Yes?"

"From now on, please feel free to use this room as you please. Whenever you want."

Maria wondered if he was not telling her that she was welcome to join him again, if she ever heard him playing in the middle of the night. It was an intriguing idea. She knew that if he granted her that kind of permission openly she would not be able to keep herself from climbing those stairs to the attic again. There was something dangerous, forbidden, about being with him when he was like that, something she knew she had to resist. She knew deep down that if the scene that ended abruptly with the loud sound of a door banging downstairs was repeated, the outcome would be different. If she found herself alone with him like that again, she knew she would be lost. That was what made her utter her next words – to try to convince herself and him that there was another objective reason for her to want to be there again, a reason related to her job as the governess of his seven children, and nothing else.

"You… you don't have to grant me that kind of permission, Captain, there is no need at all. _I just came for the books_. The truth is that I don't really need to come here and disturb the Baroness's belongings." _Or you,_ she added mentally.

"I don't think the Baroness would mind, and that being the case - why would I?" There was the slightest hint of disappointment in his voice. He was almost successful in hiding it completely, by bringing up the late Baroness von Trapp again. "You didn't know her, of course. Had she been alive, she would probably have taken you under her wing. Had you stumbled on each other in that Abbey, she would do her best to convince you not to be a nun. She could not stand the thought of anyone without a family, surrounded by children. Then she would drag you to Vienna, to all the balls of the season and not rest until you were proposed at least half a dozen times." He had been speaking at the speed of light.

Maria's jaw dropped open. To attend a Viennese Ball with the von Trapps? To expect a marriage proposal from one of the aristocrats in their social circle? The thought was nonsensical. If she were less drowsy, a little less intimidated, she would probably have laughed at the idea. She remembered the words from a new novel she had borrowed from Liesl:

"_'When I married her I was told I was the luckiest man in the world,' he said. 'She was so lovely, so accomplished, so amusing. Even Gran, the most difficult person to please in those days, adored her from the first. "She's got the three things that matter in a wife," she told me: "breeding, brains, and beauty_." (2)

_Breeding, brains and beauty –_ the late Baroness von Trapp had all of those attributes. So did Elsa von Schrader, who would probably be the next Baroness von Trapp. But her, _Maria?_ She was not of noble blood; she was not a dazzling beauty like Baroness von Schrader – who in the Captain's world would even consider giving her but a second glance? That left her only with _brain_s. Though lately the intelligence she prided herself for seemed to desert her when confronted with his wit. Well, at least when he looked at her with such unbelievable intensity.

"I'm only a governess, Captain. I'm here on God's errand, nothing more I am hoping that this experience will make me work better in His service, after I make my vows. I am afraid that I would be completely out of place at the Vienna Opera Ball, no matter how good the Baroness intentions would have been. As I would be out of place in this room, sifting through her things. It is just not right."

"Fräulein Maria!"

"Yes?"

"You're _blabbering_," he sneered, finally sounding like Captain von Trapp again.

_She _was the one who was rambling? "So are _you, _Captain," She retorted boldly.

His answer to her was a low chuckle. "I am glad you are back to being your normal self, I was just beginning to miss that defiant tone of yours. Where was I? Oh yes – you may come up here whenever you please from now on. And forget all that foolishness about class distinctions. You - have - done it."

"What have I done, exactly?" she frowned at him.

"Many, many things, but the most important of all at the moment is that you've earned my trust. I trust you," he said gravely.

"Captain, if you knew me well…"

"Ooh, I know you well enough. That is why I am placing my trust on you. Consider yourself in full command now."

"I dare to disagree. You don't know anything," _and I shall tell you nothing,_ she continued in thought.

"I know everything I _need _to know, and that does not necessarily mean _facts_ about you. I don't know how you do it, but you manage to keep the ghosts away. The thing is… that for the first time in four years I was able to talk about the children's mother without feeling that I was being stabbed at the heart." He came to stand a few feet from her. "For the same time I am actually considering the idea of bringing some of these things back downstairs where they belong." He closed the piano keyboard. "I'll prove it to you"

Maria's breath caught as he walked towards one of the boxes and opened. From inside it, he took another smaller box, one the children had shown her before while he was in Vienna. It was known as Agathe´s _memory box,_ where she kept her favorite family photographs.

"Hah! I see a look of recognition in your face. You know what is in here, don't you?" Maria nodded. She knew very well – not long ago, she had spend an entire afternoon going through those pictures. Before she could defend herself against his probable attack, he continued. "No need to explain yourself, Fräulein, I know the children come here from time to time – I just never had the heart to stop them from doing it. Here, take it." He handled the box to her.

"I don't understand!"

"You are right. I may not want or need the memories, but the children do. Just… tell them they each can choose one or two photographs to keep with them. After they make their choice, you should take them to a photographer in Salzburg, to make copies." All she could do was nod. "Now, I should really retire. You know, Max would has been warning me about that particular Bordeaux for months. I will certainly have to brace myself for the… ill effects in the morning."

"Well, Captain, I would not worry. You won't remember most of it, if you are anything like my un…" He waited for her to finish the sentence, but she never did.

"Then while I am still fully conscious let me say one more thing. I will not forgive myself for not saying this to you if I don't remember anything tomorrow."

"Yes?"

He thought for a second, before continuing, as if rehearsing a brief speech. "You are not, and never will be - "_only the governess_"," he said, stressing the last words. "No, you are much too unique to be just that. I _ask _you never to say that again. If you were "_only the governess_", you would not be here with me in the middle of the night talking about-", he made a gesture with his hands, "- ghosts, Viennese balls, Baronesses, dark secrets and whatever it was that we've been talking about. If you were "_only the governess"_ I would not …," his voice trailed away, and he never finished the sentence. Looking very tired now, as if the effects of the night and of the wine were finally taking their toll on him, he hand his hand over his unshaven. His gold wedding band glimmered, attracting Maria's eyes. "Just don't ever let anyone, myself included, ask you to be less than you are. You should be proud of every little thing about you."

Maria stared at him mutely, his passionate speech having left her in an absolute state of bewilderment.

"Now you may leave. I think I may have disturbed you enough tonight," he said suddenly, afraid that indeed the wine had gone up to his head and he had just revealed too much. Then he smiled apologetically. "Go _now_, Maria!"

She hurried out of the room, and ran down the stairway, two steps at once, tripping a couple of times. It wasn't until she was inside her bedroom, and under the covers, that she realized that the last word he had said to her was her name.

_He had called her by her first name._

---

_A/N: __(1) See "Underneath her wimple". (2) The quote is from Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier._


	5. Chapter 5

**IN VINO VERITAS**

**CHAPTER 5**

****

**_A/N: This story was not submitted to a beta yet. However, it has been throughly revised and expanded, and another new chapter added. A little warning - the changes made the story a bit darker, and probablymore controversial. So, if you like to see Georg and Maria as practically perfect in every way, maybe you should stay away from this one. _**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own The Sound of Music, etc._**

_---_

_Drink wine, and you will sleep well. _

_Sleep, and you will not sin. _

_Avoid sin, and you will be saved. _

_Ergo, drink wine and be saved._

_  
__Medieval saying_

_---_

_Over the wine-dark sea.  
_

_Homer  
Iliad, I. 350_

_---_

Maria slept very little. She did not spend the rest of the night tossing and turning in bed, wondering what could have happened if she had taken that final step towards the Captain, or if there had been no loud sound of a banging door to startle them both. Nor she wondered how things would have been if she had turned around when she heard him calling her name just as she was leaving the attic. And later, just as she was closing her curtains, when she saw him walking alone in the rain, towards the lake – she tried not to imagine what could happen if she gave into the temptation of following outside, to the gazebo.

She spent the rest of the night in prayer.

First she asked for forgiveness for her _unusual_ thoughts about Captain von Trapp. _Unusual_ because she refused to call them any other name. If by unusual she meant just that – inconceivable, strange or awe-inspiring -, rather than sinful or lustful, she had no idea at all, and she had no wish to find out at the moment. All she needed was her mind back to what always had been her only goal in life – to become a Benedictine nun.

Second, she prayed for courage to do her duty as a Catholic, and a postulant of Nonnberg Abbey, and go to confession in the Aigen parish church as soon as possible – she prayed that Father Wassner had the same gentle and understanding nature of Sister Margaretta. Even though she knew it would probably the priest who would show her how to get back to the right path, she dreaded the fact that she would have to reveal to a priest such intimate feelings about a man who was so as away from her as the Pope was to him. Never before in her life, until now, did she have any trouble with going to confession, even when she had taken the consecrated wine. It usually meant relief to her guilty conscience. This time was different – not only she sensed that the act of confession would bring her any peace, but also that it would make her feel even worse, her conscience even heavier.

She whispered every prayer in her prayer book, went through countless rosaries. Only when the storm had long gone, and she saw the pink light of dawn coming through her window, she felt reasonably in peace; with her head clear enough to face another day in the Trapp villa. Unfortunately, by then she only could allow herself one hour of sleep before it was time to begin her duties again.

She decided that the best thing to do was to pretend that the previous night had never happened, and act as normally as possible. It was unlikely that the Captain would remember most of it, at least not word for word. Her uncle used to behave like a beast from hell when he had a little too much to drink and in the next day he claimed to remember very little. That was what he always said, although she had never quite believed him. Not that being sober had ever been an improvement on her uncle's temper.

The difference was that the Captain was most definitely _not_ her uncle. Captain von Trapp´s glare only would be enough to give her only living relative a heart attack, or send him running for dear life like a frightened rabbit. She doubted that one bottle of a bad wine would be enough to turn her employer's clever mind into mush, or would drive him to do things he might regret later, like it did to her uncle. No, it had not been the wine; she was clever enough to realize that – or at least not _only_ the wine. He had to be brooding about the things he had said for weeks, and the wine had only given him the courage to speak to her. Yes, he had indeed spoken too much, said things that deeply disturbed her. The mere thought of it was enough to make her blush.

What made it more intriguing was that he had not, in any moment, been disrespectful, he had never let go of his aristocratic persona. He made no attempt to touch her. No, he had _lured_ her to him, like the dragon in her dream, but he had not forced her to follow him wherever he wanted to lead her. He might have pushed her into revealing things about her that she kept buried and hidden, however, on the other hand, he said things about his past, about his previous marriage that Maria doubted he would reveal to anyone else, let alone a mere governess.

In the end, his message to her had been clear. He did not know anything about her life, and he did not have to. He had come close to saying he did not _want_ to. However, he had been incredibly, wickedly insightful about some hidden aspects of her life that, until very recently, she completely ignored. Like the dragon in her dream, who not let her hide from him, and would find her wherever she was. The point was that, whatever happened to her family, Maria had been left with nothing. And she had chosen the convent because there were no alternatives left to her, or because she had been too scared to face anything else.

Was that true? – Maria wondered. If she'd had a happy, normal childhood, would she still be a postulant at Nonnberg Abbey?

Yet, other than the insight into her inner soul, there was something else that troubled her even more. Something so ordinary, so simple, something that could be as meaningful as it could be meaningless: _He called her by her first name_. Just as she was leaving, he did. She heard it well. Oh, she doubted she would ever hear it again. Soon she would be back to the shouted "_Fräulein!"_´s and he would be pestering her again about some obscure little rule she had broken, or something else. He would be back into his impenetrable shell again, back to being a complete enigma.

"_Oh Lord, please, let that happen! Let him continue yelling his "Fräulein!"´s and blowing that whistle at me_," she pleaded silently. "Don't think about it," she whispered, descending the stairs, trying to convince herself of the impossible. "If you don't think about it, maybe, just maybe, it never happened. If it did not happen, then _everything_ will be the same today."

Maria sighed in relief, and quite audibly, when she saw that the breakfast table looked the same as it usually did every single morning. The children were already there, chatting, and so was Herr Detweiler, who had just pulled a coin from behind Brigitta´s ear. The Baroness was nowhere to be seen, but that was nothing out of the ordinary, because she never ate that first meal with the family, preferring to linger in bed until late morning and having her breakfast brought to her by her personal maid.

After Maria answered to the children's greetings and apologized for being just a little late, her gaze went automatically to the head of the table, as she braced herself by one of the Captain's scathing remarks, and she held her breath.

"Oh!"

She could not hide her small disappointed moan when she saw that the Captain was not there, at his usual place, his head hidden behind his newspaper, answering to her lively "_Guten Morgen!_" with a barely audible grunt… He was simply not the most talkative person in the morning!

"Odd, isn't it, Fräulein?" Max remarked to her, as she took her place. "Strange indeed. The Captain late for breakfast – that would give the crew of the U-14 he commanded something to talk about for weeks! The last time this happen was about seven years ago when he had indulged into that bad Bordeaux he still keeps in his cellar. I had warned him about that appalling vintage, but he would not listen to it."

"_Oh yes, the Bordeaux…"_

The Captain had mentioned it the night before. A couple of days ago the last thing she would be able to picture was Captain von Trapp nursing a hangover. The thought was enough to make Maria smile inwardly.

The children began to express their worries about their father too, and Friedrich volunteered to go upstairs and check on him. That was when she decided it was time to intervene.

"It will be all right, I'm sure, Friedrich. Your father stayed up a bit too late last night," she bit her lips and stopped. They were all staring at her. Including Franz, who was hovering around the table, as usual – if there was something out of ordinary going on in the von Trapp household, he was not going to miss it for the world. They were certainly wondering how on earth she knew that. Instantly, Maria remembered the Captain's comment about how easily the ugliest rumors could begin, and once more cursed herself for her absolute lack of verbal control. "I heard him playing the piano in the attic," Maria explained, her voice lower, looking straight at Herr Detweiler, who was staring at her with the most puzzled look in his face.

"Georg playing the piano? Are you sure, Fräulein Maria, that you did not drink some of that Bordeaux yourself?" he asked, amused.

Maria tried not to choke on her coffee.

"He _never_ plays the piano in the attic," Louisa challenged, with a sly glance towards her. "He never played anymore, since mother died. Not even a note."

"He did last night!" exclaimed Maria, nonchalantly. The truth was that she too was starting to worry a little – he had been walking in the rain after she left him, hadn't he? What if he were sick, lying in bed with a high fever, either unable or too proud to ask for help? But she already had revealed too much, she could not also revel she had seen him walking outside. No, she had to find another way.

"Yes, he did, I heard it too," said Liesl. "He played all his old favorites – Rachmaninoff, Debussy and Chopin, of course."

"You see?" _Thank you Liesl,_ Maria said silently, smiling at the girl.

"So _that_ was where the music came from!" Brigitta exclaimed. "I heard it too, but I thought it was Uncle Max playing the gramophone."

"Good heavens, no! I slept like an innocent babe last night!" sneered Max. "Besides, I have no respect for those silly modern gadgets. I rather be caught dead than listening to Mozart played in one of those things rather than by a live orchestra."

"It wasn't Mozart," Brigitta tried to correct him.

"I don't understand. He hasn't touched that piano since mother died," said Kurt.

"Well, has not done many things since then that he is doing again now. The piano is just another one," suggested Friedrich.

"Friedrich is right," Liesl said. "A month ago could any of us gave imagined father joining us in a song? Or let us stage a puppet show?" Five children shook their heads. Liesl´s eyes widened, as the idea occurred to her. "Fräulein, do you think that means we'll have the piano back in time for the ball? I am sure the Baroness would love the idea."

"Yes!" some of the other children exclaimed.

"Maybe he could play for us!" Gretl yelled, excited. "I have never heard him play before!"

"Oh… Ehm… I don't know, children. Only time will tell – isn't that what they say? We have to wait and…" Her voice trailed away as the sound of other voices approaching the dinning room were heard. "_Oh no…"_

Soon enough, Elsa's velvety voice was recognized, followed by the Captain's unmistakable low chuckle. Max, who had been following the exchange between Maria and the children in silent amusement, turned around in his chair to greet them.

The Baroness's "_good morning_" was cheerful enough, but the Captain's words were gruff, and barely audible. Other than that, at first Maria did not detect any ill effects from the previous night. He seemed more impeccably, elegantly dressed than ever. The infallible tie was back, as well as the neatly combed hair. From head to toe, he looked his part – the handsome and very aristocratic sea captain.

"Well, well, well! Look who had decided to join us poor, lowly mortals for breakfast!" exclaimed Max. That earned him a warning glance from the Captain, which was enough for Maria to notice that his eyes were slightly bloodshot. Max turned to Elsa. "What happened to you, my darlings? Georg, you look positively ghastly. What have you done to yourself? And you, dear Elsa, did you fall off the bed?"

"Oh Max, don't be a beast! I had the most terrible night, and I could not sleep a wink," the Baroness immediately replied.

"It seems that _nobody_ slept well. Except for me, of course – a pity, because it seems that it was a remarkably interesting night!" exclaimed Max. "Ask Fräulein Maria," he finished, looking at her, his eyes full of mirth.

The not so innocent remark was enough to make Maria blush slightly, but the mention of her name set her face on fire. Her eyes widened instantly. Even Herr Detweiler, whom she used to think barely knew who she was, now was firing his innuendos at her? What was wrong with those people? She immediately dropped her eyes to her plate, hoping that the Captain did not pay attention to his friend's remark, but she still kept her ears in the conversation. The children too remained unusually quiet.

Fortunately, the Baroness ignored Max's mention of her person. "Not for me," she pouted. "Don't look so disappointed, Max. You almost make me wish I had something naughty about last night to tell you."

"I am sure you'll think of something naughty if you only make an effort," Max teased. Elsa giggled and winked at him.

"Max!" the Captain warned hoarsely, just as he was taking his seat.

"Anyway, when I finally decided to have breakfast with you all at this uncivilized hour, look _who_ I run into!" Elsa nodded towards the Captain. "Can you believe that the Captain was actually considering deserting us to have breakfast in the quietness of his room?! Naturally, I could not allow it."

"I am unforgivably late, Elsa, there is no need to stress the point," Georg said churlishly, and with that, he buried his nose behind his morning paper, a very clear sign that he did not wish to be disturbed. Maria nearly sighed in relief – the last thing she wanted, at least that morning, was to be under his line of fire. She needed a few hours… maybe even a few days to fully recover from that strange night, so that she would be able to act normally when he was around, at least in a way that did not make her feel like she was a lousy actress in a badly staged play.

"Where were _you_ last night, Fräulein Maria?" Louisa asked, abruptly.

Again, an ominous silence fell on the table. Maria startled, and her head shot up, automatically, towards the Captain. His face was still hidden by the newspaper, but she could see, even from a distance, that his knuckles were white, gripping the paper with unnecessary force, and that his hands were tense.

"Well… I… I was… Ehm… How did you…"

"Gretl and I were upset by the storm again, but we could not find you in your room. So we went to Louisa's," said Marta.

Maria was still struggling to find the right answer. Her distress was noticeable to everyone, most of all by the three adults in the opposite end of the table. Elsa and Max were staring at her, curiously. The Captain neatly folded his newspaper, and for the first time, looked straight at her.

"_This is what it must feel like, to be hit by a torpedo,_" Maria thought. There was something in his eyes, something different – a knowing light, perhaps. He was _looking_ at her differently, and she was not sure she liked it or not. She fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Yes, Fräulein, where were you?" he asked ironically, raising his eyebrows.

Her mouth dropped open, and she stared back at him, angrily. For a brief second, she actually considered telling everyone on the table - his seven children, Herr Detweiler, the future Baroness von Trapp, and even Franz, who could barely hide his curiosity – _exactly_ where she had spent a good part of the previous night. It was, after all, was what her old, outspoken self would do in a blink. She was not that same person, however – dealing with Captain von Trapp and his family had made her wiser, more careful.

"I heard a door slamming downstairs and I went down to check it," she replied evenly. Recovering a little of her old spirit, she added.

"Uh - which door?" he fired.

"Your study's," Maria replied evenly, and with a touch of anger, which, as usual, made her voice drop a couple of octaves. "_Be careful, Captain, if you want to start a war, I might just give you one_," she thought.

"I always keep it locked when I am not there," he said smoothly.

"_Why are you doing this?_" she wanted to ask, as she looked at him desperately. Her despair lasted for only a heartbeat, and it turned to anger again. "_Why don't you let it go? Just don't think about it, because _it did not happen. _It would be so much easier for all of us,_" she wanted to yell at that impossible man.

"It wasn't locked last night. I checked all the doors, as a matter of fact." Before he could retort again, she asked. "Where were _you_, Captain?" Revenge could be sweet after all – it that was a war he wanted… He stopped cold, and his face became a mask – a good indication that her target had been hit. "The children would like to know," she added, disingenuously.

He smiled dangerously. She could almost read his thoughts, and that was… very, very unsettling. He seemed to be warning her. "_Don't even try to play this game; you little fool… not without knowing the rules first!_" It was a reminder that he was the Captain, and he would not simply give up without a fight. He rose to her challenge.

"Why?" he asked simply.

"Why what?" she frowned at him.

"Didn't I specifically ask you the other day not to answer my questions with another question?" he snapped, dropping his fork.

"I would not have to, if your questions were not so… ehm… obscure, Captain!"

"Obscure?" Again, the raised eyebrows. He went on with scathing irony. "Very well, I will bring out the light. The children went to you, not to me, because of the storm. How on earth did _they_ know I was _not_ in my bedroom? How the devil did _you_ know I was not in my bedroom?" He leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving her. He seemed to be _savoring_ her embarrassment, as if he enjoyed making her squirm. That was what he had done to her most of the previous night. Nevertheless, they had been alone, and now their verbal battle was being witnessed by at least the other people, who turned their heads from one to another, as if they were watching a tennis match.

"_Just hit him with the truth,_" a voice inside of her spoke. No, not the truth about their midnight conversation, but another one, another revelation that she knew could make him squirm, just a little.

"The children heard you playing the piano in the attic, Captain," she said as evenly as she could. "I heard it too!"

"Hah!" he exclaimed.

"_Typical_," she thought. "_That is what he usually says when he does not know what to say…_" But her triumph did not last for long. This time he leaned forward in his chair, and stared at her fixedly:

"And how, may I ask you, Fräulein, did _you_ know it was me?"

"Was that you?" the Baroness turned to him in complete surprise, unknowingly saving both Maria from further embarrassment, because his question had rendered her absolutely speechless. "Oh my, my, darling! I thought it was just Max playing with that new gramophone he brought from Vienna."

"For God's sake, Elsa," Max protested. "You know I cannot stand those blasted things."

"Unless you can make money with them," the Captain remarked. "Which is, by the way, what you have been trying to do while calling Rome, Paris and Stockholm on my telephone?"

Much to Maria's relief the conversation shifted after that – she and the children were apparently forgotten by the trio at the head of the table. The sly glance the Captain threw her, just as she and the children excused themselves from the table was enough to convince her that the night in the attic would go on haunting her for a very, very long time.


	6. Chapter 6

**IN VINO VERITAS**

**CHAPTER 6**

**_A/N: There are several important changes and additions in this story, so you should read the first five chapters first. _**

**_A little warning - the changes made the story a bit darker, and probablymore controversial. So, if you like to see Georg and Maria as practically perfect in every way, maybe you should stay away from this one. _**

**_This is the extra chapter. I may still do some work on it, but I think it will be the last one in this story._**

**_At last, but not least, to my friends from my fan fiction forum - you know who you are:-) - a huge thanks for your supports and your ideas, while I was working in this one._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own The Sound of Music, etc._**

_---_

_He who loves not wine, women and song remains a fool his whole life long.  
_

_Martin Luther_

_---_

_How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!_

_The world forgetting, by the world forgot._

_Alexander Pope_

_---_

Georg von Trapp was immediately drawn by his children's happy squeals mixed with sounds of splashing water. He turned to where all the noise came from and frowned deeply. With Fräulein Maria in the house, he no longer expected to return from anywhere in the world to a silent house. Smiling, he realized that he did not mind their noise anymore, even while still suffering from a mighty hangover because of the previous night. His head pounded, but the unmistakable evidence that his children were happy made him feel lighter, in spite of the troublesome past hours.

"They are _swimming_ this afternoon, Captain," Franz informed him with his impassive irony, as he was handled the keys of the black Horsch.

"_All_ of them?" Georg inquired meaningfully.

"Yes, sir, I believe so. The – uh – _governess_ is with them."

"_Swimming…_" he whispered to himself. Weeks ago, he would march towards the lake, preparing to lecture at whoever was responsible for allowing his children to scream like a savage barbarian horde while playing in the water.

He had no wish to do that now. None at all.

Not waiting for an answer, he walked briskly towards the lake, bracing himself for he would see… bracing himself for another vision of Fräulein Maria in a bathing suit frolicking with his children. An image that was, in all likelihood, going to disturb him for the next days to come. Yet, he practically run towards it.

_Fräulein Maria…_ But he did have the most absurd feeling that he had called her _Maria_ last night.

"I should be stoned to death buried alive," he said between clenched teeth, censoring himself for his thoughts, and slowing his pace. Weren't those the penances awaiting those who dared to even consider violating a vestal virgin during Roman times? It was certainly the punishment the poor women received if they broke their vow of chastity. Whatever fate was reserved to those who harmed them, death was certainly one of them – undoubtedly accompanied by some cruel kind of torture that made the whole process agonizingly slow and painful. On the other hand, it was also said that the vestals could free condemned prisoners and slaves by only touching them. Did that mean they could free their own assailants if they so wished? Although he was not planning to lay a finger on that particular virgin, vestal or not, if he could avoid, he would certainly ask for her forgiveness. He had to - his unbreakable code of honor demanded him to do so.

The question was – how do you apologize to someone who would most certainly have little or no clue about what _exactly_ he was apologizing for? It was a most difficult situation – the apology was likely to make things even worse if it was done carelessly. To make things even more impossible, he was not a man used to admit guilt and ask for forgiveness, not at all… although since the little Fräulein arrived in Aigen he did acquire some practice.

He was not sure yet what he was going to say to her. It was one of the few times in his life he did not know exactly what to do, because every alternative that presented itself in his mind could lead to potential disaster. The verbal battle during breakfast had been unexpected enough to him. He had expected her to cower, to blush and hide under the table, or something equally silly like spill hot coffee in her lap in order to have an excuse to leave the table quickly. He had _not_ expected her to fight back, and more, to taunt him as she had. If it weren't so crazy, he could swear she had been very close to telling them all at the table the whole truth about what had happened in the attic.

The problem was that _nothing_ had happened in the attic.

At least nothing palpable. Yes, he should not be up there alone with his young governess in the middle of the night, that was obvious enough. Other than that, if any of them had sinned, the sin had been committed entirely in thought. The alcohol he had drunk had made the memory of the events slightly blurred, not clear at times, but he did remember the essence of it. He had pushed her too far; farther than he ever had before, and throughout the day today he started living with the consequences of it. What was the worst of all, he indeed had come so very, very close to seducing her. His raised hand had been only a hair breath away from touching her when that cursed door slammed downstairs. If he had touched her only once, only ever so lightly, he knew he would not be able to stop himself.

It would have been so easy… Frighteningly easy… What she was made her too vulnerable, and if he were a less honorable man, he doubted he would resist the temptation for too long. He hated himself for being aware of that, he would never forgive himself because he would not be able to stop himself.

After she left him, he did something he had not done in years – he went outside, and walked in the storm, for God knows how long. While the rain cooled his heated body, it failed to do the same with his mind. He found himself imagining how it would be if he had seduced her that night. He did not know if it was the wine or the rain, but he could visualize exactly what would happen afterwards, what would happen to him and his family if he had started an affair with his children's governess. It was like watching a movie; he saw everything – the reaction of his friends and family, Elsa's reaction… if any of them ever find out. And then, there would come the day where their liaison would be over. The thought hit him like a knife stabbing his heart – what would happen to them both after that? Oh, he would move on, as the man of the world he was, and would marry Elsa as originally planned.

What about Maria?

She would be banished from Nonnberg forever – that path would be closed to her. The thought of Maria being compensated for her lost virtue with a generous check, expensive jewelry and a luxurious apartment in Vienna was enough give him chills. The mere possibility of her going from lover to lover in order to be able to survive after he ended their affair with her made him ill.

"_I cannot do this to her_," he thought. The question was: why?

Such a fate would destroy her. She was not a woman of the world – she was a convent bred innocent who believed that the worst sin she had ever committed in life was to have stolen half a bottle of consecrated wine. At the same time, she was clearly, irrevocably attracted to him, and she was, in her innocence, being quite obvious about it. He was experienced enough to know that Maria would not resist temptation, that she would willingly give herself to him if only pushed her just a little farther. She didn't know anything about lust, but she would learn, once he was done with her. She would find herself completely besotted, and would go on sleeping with him because she would believe herself to be _in love_… Afterwards, she would not know the difference between the mortal sin of lust and love… He would make him no better than those libertines aristocrats he despised so much! It made him feel despicable. Being stoned to death or buried alive would not be punishment enough.

Grimly, he remembered the days in Pola, where his submarine base was located. His memory went further to the past, to the days when he made his choice to command submarines. In those days, the Austrian U-boats were in their very early stages of development, and something seen by some of the higher ranks in the Navy as a career with no future at all. The officers chosen to work in those frightfully primitive underwater boats were name as eccentrics, and the crews were a curious the most disreputable cadets who volunteered from all corners of the already decadent Habsburg Empire.

His own mother had been disgusted when he announced his choice, saying that his father would be rolling in his grave if he knew.

The somewhat blemished reputation of the submariners never bothered him, on the contrary. When he made his decision, he had his mind set in changing all that, he was bent on showing Austria and its Navy exactly what those unimpressive little boats could do to defend the Habsburg Empire. That meant completely changing the reputation of the U-boat commanders and their crews. Undoubtedly, he had time enough in the Navy to accomplish his task beautifully. He only wished that it had been enough not to win the war, but at least not to let it end with such disastrous consequences to the country he loved so much.

Even with all those things considered, and, maybe, precisely because of that, no matter what their social status was, the women in Pola practically threw themselves at the submarine crews (1). His good friend Hans Schneider would say that the attraction was typically Freudian because of the particular shape of submarines – and explanation that had always amused him. Young as he was, and with good looks to add to the appeal that his career had to those women, he took full advantage of whatever the ladies of Pola could offer. Until the day he met Agathe Whitehead, of course. After he lost her, he tried to return to his old pattern, but it had nearly destroyed him.

Now this… Maria – Fräulein Maria was not exactly throwing herself at him, at least not consciously.

Things had taken a turn for the worse in Fuschl, where he planned to spend a peaceful couple of days in the company of Elsa, under Max's chaperoning, which was merely a formality. Right after they had lunch with their friends, he found himself alone with his future fiancée. It was when he had made a bad move with her, a terrible _faux-pas_. She pushed him away, when only weeks ago she would have welcomed him. The whole incident angered Elsa beyond belief, and they had their first serious argument since their early days together, when she was trying her best to bring him out of his depression.

"Please, Georg, do not mock my intelligence. I know _exactly_ what is going on," Elsa had said.

"You know absolutely nothing!"

"Oh, don't I, darling? I know more than you can possibly imagine. I'll tell you what – after the ball, I will return to Vienna for a couple of weeks. I'll even take Liesl and Louisa with me if you want."

"Elsa, you don't have to do that."

"No, no, let me finish. This will give you time enough to solve _your little problem_."

"Uh – what _problem_ exactly? If you mean sending the children to some boarding school in Switzerland, that is absolutely out of the question. We already discussed this before."

"Darling! I don't need to give the problem a name, do I? It is certainly not Liesl, Friedrich, Louisa, Brigitta, Kurt, Marta or Gretl. Do not look at me like you don't know exactly what I am talking about. After you take care of the matter, we can go back to where we left off – and by that I mean _before_ your outrageous behavior of half an hour ago, and, most importantly, _before_ you left Vienna in the first place."

Elsa had refused to tell him exactly what she meant by _his problem_ and how exactly he was expected to solve it. Was she hinting that she would close her eyes so that he could have his way with the governess, and thus get rid of his growing obsession once and for all? Or simply that he should send her away for good? Their argument became heated, and instead of staying the night in Fuschl, as originally planned, he got into his car and drove back to Aigen, leaving Elsa and Max behind.

Fräulein Maria was not one of those women of Pola. She was worlds away from the two sophisticated women he had taken to his bed after his wife died. She was not Baroness Schraeder, whom he pretended to marry as soon as the summer was over. She was…

He watched her now. She was not swimming with the children, as he first believed. Instead of the bathing suit he was preparing himself for, she wore one of the light summer dresses she had made herself, which made her equally alluring to him. She sat in the shade, under a tree, and was watching the children frolicking in the water with a smile in her face. Yet, in spite of her smile, her face told him that she probably did not get any sleep the previous night. He wondered if the sip of wine she drank had caused her any harm.

Nevertheless, apart from whatever discomfort ailed her, Fräulein Maria seemed unaffected by the previous night, at least apparently. One of the phrases that he had said to her came back to his fuzzy memory.

"_There is so much light around you that sometimes it is just… unbearable_," he had said, and with that he nearly shouted his relief, because he knew at that moment that nothing that he had said or done had dimmed that light around her. All he wanted not was not to be the man with the power to extinguish that light.

Just as it happened before, the children saw him first and started waving and yelling from the water, begging from him to join them. Fräulein Maria turned slightly towards him, but there was no joyful cry this time. Her gaze dropped to somewhere in the middle of his chest.

"Fräulein," he greeted her with the customary nod.

"Captain, you're home!" she blurted out, and although he could distinguish a myriad of different feelings in her tone of voice, joy was not one of them. "I thought… I thought…"

"Yes?"

"Frau Schmidt told me that you were probably going to spend the weekend in Fuschl."

"I changed my mind," he said simply, and sat on the ground next to her, watching the children.

"I see," she whispered.

_Not completely unaffected,_ he thought. _She is not looking at me_.

"I hope you don't mind that I allowed the children to go swimming today," she said, trying to sound casual. "They are having such a wonderful time in the water."

"No, I don't mind it at all – in fact, I am surprised that you did not join them." He looked at her again, waiting for an explanation, but she merely gave a small shrug. "I myself am tempted. It is terribly hot today, isn't it?" His hand automatically went to his neck and he loosened his tie a bit. He hesitated before proceeding, but it was something that had to be done. The least that he could do was to set her mind at ease – it would be the first step towards _fixing_ things.

"Fräulein, about last night…"

She stiffened a bit, her eyes now fixed not in the children anymore, but somewhere in the middle of the lake. "What about it, Captain?"

"That is exactly my problem. _What happened_ exactly? And I demand… no, I would like a truthful answer."

"You don't remember?" She smiled, in pure relief, and finally met his eyes. "Oh, I knew something like this could happen, I told you that didn't I?"

"If you did, obviously I have no recollection of it. I was… slightly intoxicated."

"_Slightly intoxicated?_" she giggled. "I beg your pardon, Captain, but you were _drunk_!"

"What _happened_?" he insisted. His intention, this time, was not merely to provoke her – he merely wanted to hear her version of the events.

"You asked – no, I think you _ordered_ me to keep you company. Then you played, I listened. You talked, I listened…"

"_Well, Fräulein, you maybe a dismal liar, but you are an expert when it comes to telling half truths,_" he thought.

"I have trouble believing that one."

"Well, Captain, you needed the talking and the listening. But don't worry, you did not make much sense most of the time."

Now she was clearly lying. His head started to pound again. That damned wine!

"Fräulein, in any case – if I said or did anything remotely disrespectful to you, I apologize."

Her cheeks suddenly reddened, and not because of the summer heat. "Captain, you were not disrespectful in any moment. You were just a little…"

"Yes?"

"Bold, I guess. But no more than I have been towards you at times in the past. I think we can call it even."

"I am asking you to forgive me all the same, for being… ehm… obtrusive."

She let out another laugh. "Captain, if you knew how obtrusive those nuns can be when a girl decides to enter a convent, you would not be so concerned. I _have_ been questioned about my life before. Considering that I am temporarily responsible for the well-being your children, I think you have the right to do so as well if you find it necessary."

"But I am not a nun!"

"Obviously not!" Her eyes were full of mirth, but she was not meeting his eyes again.

"Fräulein!" he exclaimed – not harshly, but softly this time.

"Very well, if you insist."

"I do."

She tried to hold his gaze them, but only briefly. "You are forgiven, Captain."

"Thank you."

"You´re welcome. Well, I hope that apart from your memory loss, you are not suffering from any other ill effects of that bad Bordeaux vintage."

He chuckled. "You know, I just had quite an argument during lunch with a friend of mine in Fuschl. He is French, and he claims that there is no such thing as a bad Bordeaux vintage. Naturally I spend a good portion of my time there trying to convince him otherwise!" That earned him another honest smile, as she visibly relaxed. "The truth is that I woke up this morning with a splitting headache, and every little sound made me feel like all the bells of Salzburg peeled at the same time inside my skull. I cannot tell you how relieved I was when I came downstairs this morning and realized that you were not giving the children yodeling lessons. I should have the rest of the bottles in his cellar dumped into the Salzach!"

"Better yet, Captain. You should have them shipped to your French friend from Fuschl…" she suggested mischievously.

"Fräulein, you do have a wickedly cunning mind at times! I think I might do just that."

What he did next was impulsive and as unexpected to him as it was to her. He extended her hid hand. He remembered he had not granted her with that most ordinary act of courtesy the day of her arrival. She looked at his hand for a few seconds, uncertainly.

"Truce?" he asked.

Silently, she took his hand, and he gave hers a light, gentle squeeze. Immediately, she tried to pull it away, but he held it a bit longer. He could not help himself.

"What ails you, uh Fräulein?" He frowned – her first name had come naturally to him and he had to stop himself at the last moment from calling her Maria. He finally let go of her hand.

"Mmm?"

"Your hand is cold and you look pale. There is that, and my experiences in the war are enough to tell me that you are under a certain degree of physical pain."

"Oh, I'm fine, Captain," she said, with a dismissive gesture.

"Why are you not with them?"

She was not longer listening to him. The children attracted her attention again, as they all fell laughing on the water, after another failed attempt to make a pyramid. Next to him, Maria seemed to have forgotten his presence and burst on laughing. He had not heard her laugh like that in a while – the carefree, contagious laugher of someone who is truly enjoying herself.

Suddenly his head did not hurt so much anymore. His vision had cleared.

Everything would be fine now. _She_ would be fine. All was just the way it was just how it was supposed to be. He would not have to give the matter any other thought, he did not need to. His ship was once more sailing smoothly.

_Yes_, he thought, satisfied. All is well and normal again.

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_A/N: (1) The idea came from John Biggins´s book, A Sailor in Austria, which gave me a good idea of how the Captains wild days at sea might have been like._


End file.
